The Phone Generation

I can't stop imagining how lucky this generation is.
Yesterday night, Chigozirim came home with one small thing she called a phone.  She said I can call her with it whenever she is not at home.  She even said I can call Obioma, my son who lives at 'Obodo-Oyibo' far far China. I tried it and it worked. Obioma was happy to hear from me and we spoke at length.

So this morning, I came outside and met Chigozirim with a rectangular shaped object, she had her attention concentrated on it, so much that she didn't notice when I walked in. The fresh breeze of the morning encouraged her concentration so much that I walked in totally unnoticed. I called out to her and she responded saying she was watching a movie. I was amazed.

"Wonders shall never end! So this generation has finally made a television  📺 of this size, that you can even hold in your hands. Wow!  This is amazing."
Chigozirim laughed so hard,  leaving me bewildered, wondering what exactly promoted her laughter 😁.
She finally said the object in her hand👐 was not a television but a "tablet".

Ah ah, Chigozirim! How can a tablet be this big?
By the way,  which doctor prescribed this tablet for you?
When did you even fall sick?
And how can you possibly swallow it with water since its this big?
Won't the movies begin to play in your stomach?
She laughed again but later began explaining that it is a phone, though bigger than the one she bought for me.

Hei! You mean this is a phone?
Oh, how I wish phones of this size existed during the war, maybe I wouldn't have become a widow by now.

Okafor, my husband returned home one evening several years ago, telling me of how every man in the community was preparing to fight for Umudike, the land flowing with milk and honey. And that Ebube, the community chief, who later became an influential politician and wanted Umudike to become an autonomous community; he had promised that, every man who volunteers to fight in the war will be given a political appointment once the war was over.

At first, I thought of how many political positions existed that will be given to thousands of volunteer fighters.  But I have never been a 'joy killer' to Okafor, I've always been his 'joy propeller', so l encouraged him knowing his mind was already made up. So he left some days later and never returned.

It's 25 years already and I don't believe my husband is dead because his grave does not exist in the compound. I wish phones existed then, he would have had one and the gods would have given me his number.

Story by: Tassie Constance